Temptations and Touch
by starry19
Summary: "It had been interesting, watching her try to avoid her feelings for him for the past several years. He, however, was much more pragmatic in these situations. He was probably better at hiding his emotions than she was, but he certainly hadn't hidden them from himself. " A birthday gift for CharmingNotDarling


**AN**: A birthday gift for the lovely and talented CharmingNotDarling. This is meant to be a present - a light, fluffy present, so you'll have to forgive anything that seems like it would perhaps be a stretch at this point.

Anyway.

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHARMING!**

Temptations and Touch

The first time he gave into temptation, it felt like an out of body experience. It was a cold day in northern California, covered in gray skies and punctuated by the howling wind raging outside of the paned windows of the CBI.

They had been at a crime scene earlier in the day, breath coming in white puffs, hands burrowed deep in pockets.

The cold was exhilarating, yes, but it felt like he was always cold these days, and the weather certainly didn't need to help him out in that respect. No matter where they went from there, he couldn't seem to get warm.

He'd turned the heat up so high in the vehicle that Lisbon informed him that she was going to melt if this continued. Back at the office, he'd had countless cups of steaming tea, hoping his usual method would do the trick.

And, to a certain extent, it had. But there seem like there was frigidity lodged deep in his soul that nothing could dispel.

So he tried the couch, legs curled up under the rarely-used blanket. Closing his eyes, he focused on warm thoughts: sunshine, fireplaces, Lisbon's small frame against his.

It did little good.

When the day was waning, the light outside almost gone, Lisbon herself appeared in front of him. Recognizing the sound of her footsteps, he made an effort to prop his eyelids open.

She didn't look annoyed, which he took as a good sign. Instead, she seemed...concerned?

"Are you alright?" she asked, crouching down so that they were at the same level.

He cleared his throat. "Yes," he replied, somewhat confused.

Her expression was soft. "People seem to be worried about you. They say you're behaving even stranger than usual."

He offered her a small smile. "Just cold," he said, shrugging under his blanket.

Unexpectedly, she reached out, brushing his hair out of his face before gently settling her hand against his forehead.

"Hm," she murmured thoughtfully. "You don't feel warm."

No, he definitely wasn't warm, but she was. Her skin felt scorching against his, and he almost shuddered with want when she pulled away.

She watched his face, and he wondered what she saw there.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked eventually.

He nodded. "Like I said, I just can't get warm."

Lisbon chewed the inside of her lip thoughtfully. "My office is pretty toasty," she said, the invitation obvious. "I've been running my space heater since we got back here."

The idea was worth considering. He stood with a little effort, the blanket falling from his shoulders. It felt like the equivalent of letting in an arctic breeze.

Shivering lightly, he followed Lisbon to her office, noting that it definitely was warmer here. He shut the door behind them, then flopped gracelessly on the white couch, reaching for the purple throw blanket.

He stretched, muscles feeling sore and bruised from the time he had spent curled up. Unintentionally, he made a noise of discomfort.

It brought Lisbon back to his side, her palm pressed again his forehead again. He leaned into the heat, and she read his body language, fingers sliding soothingly into his hair, leaving rows of fire in their wake.

"You make me nervous, you know?" she whispered. "You're never like this."

He made a non-committal sound, then was visited by a good idea.

Throwing caution into the proverbial winds, he reached out and took her by the waist, pulling her forward. She was startled, hands trying to steady herself against the unexpected movement, but he was persistent, not giving up until she was next to him on the couch.

He didn't give her an opportunity to object, just wrapped his arms around her firmly, her face pressed against his chest.

After a moment of shocked inaction, he felt her small hands settle on his sides. "Did you drink some sketchy tea again?" she asked. "Are you having a hallucination?"

He chuckled lightly. "I'm decidedly sober, my dear. Just frozen, and you happen to be a very convenient source of body heat."

That was an understatement. It felt like he had his own personal space heater pressed against him. Thoughtlessly, he nuzzled into her hair. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and everything he associated with warmth.

Slowly, he felt himself start to relax, felt his chilled blood start to pump through his veins again.

Eventually, the tension drained from Lisbon's frame as well, and he took a moment to appreciate that, beneath the seeming strangeness of the moment, this all felt perfectly natural.

Like this was what life should be like.

The idea was strange, foreign, but once it crossed his mind, he found that he couldn't shake it.

Lisbon shifted against him, her cheek resting against his heart, and his arms tightened in response.

He lost track of how long they stayed that way, neither speaking, just breathing in the other's presence. It was something that he had been denying himself for the better part of a decade, and though he was aware that he missed it, he had thought until now that he had missed this with Angela exclusively.

As it turned out, that wasn't entirely accurate.

His affection for his self-proclaimed _partner_ (it still made him smile when she referred to him in that way, even if he had to hide his grin) had grown exponentially since the moment they'd been introduced.

She had just been...so unexpected. And lovely. And unwilling to take his shit.

It had been interesting, watching her try to avoid her feelings for him for the past several years. He, however, was much more pragmatic in these situations. He was probably better at hiding his emotions than she was, but he certainly hadn't hidden them from himself.

He had fallen for her early in their relationship. It was something he hadn't counted on. In all honesty, he hadn't believed he had the capacity to love someone in a romantic manner ever again.

Of course, that just showed what he knew.

He felt Lisbon jerk abruptly, and smiled at the idea that she had actually almost fallen asleep on him.

She pushed herself up, hand flat against his chest, brushing her hair out of her face. He decided that _adorably rumpled_ was an excellent way to describe her current state.

She was also, very clearly, embarrassed at the situation she had found herself in.

Making hasty excuses, she had left him just a few minutes later, cheeks more than a touch rosy. She hadn't however, been able to stop herself from asking if he felt better.

Even uncomfortable, she was still concerned for his well-being, and he wondered again what he had done to deserve her in his life.

The next time he gave into temptation, he had been looking for a reason to get close to her since she had extracted herself from his embrace a few weeks before.

They had just closed a case that had hit home for her - an abusive, alcoholic father, three kids without their mother. They would have a difficult time ahead of them; all of the kids were under the age of nine, with no guardian angel of a sister to protect them.

He'd found her in her office, head bowed, shoulders slumped, looking utterly defeated. It was so rare that he saw her in such a vulnerable state that he took a minute to stare.

Then, swiftly, he crossed the floor to stand behind her chair, hands on her narrow shoulders. Her eyes flew open at his touch, startled.

"It's just me," he murmured, thumbs starting to rub circles against her tense muscles. After a second, her lids drifted shut again, and she leaned back slightly.

His fingers brushed over a knot of tension, and he heard her exhalation.

"I suppose you don't need me to tell you that you're a wreck." It wasn't a question, just a statement, spoken in a casual tone.

"I figured that out all by myself, Jane, thanks," Lisbon replied, voice sarcastic.

He hit a particularly sensitive spot and she let out an involuntary groan. "You're wound up so tight I'm surprised you haven't shattered yet," he whispered, bending slightly so that his lips were next to her ear. He noted the goosebumps that appeared on her bare arms as his breath wafted against her.

Her heart rate went up several notches, and the thought of what would happen if he actually seduced her here distracted him so thoroughly he wasn't sure he would have noticed if the office caught on fire.

Predictably, her office phone rang, shattering the atmosphere he had unintentionally created. The news about another murder ended whatever lingering tension had managed to hold on.

He did, however, help her into her jacket, fingers sliding unnecessarily down her arms. The look she gave him practically smoldered, and he wondered how long they were going to keep up this platonic charade.

The third time he gave into temptation, he didn't intend to.

His latest, promising lead on Red John had ended abruptly with a string of dead bodies. He had just been so close, close enough that he could feel it, and to be thwarted was about as much frustration as he could take.

Stoically, he'd holed up in the attic, staring out at the rain pelting the Sacramento landscape. Some nights, it felt like he would never win, that he would be stuck in this place forever. Unable to escape, unable to move on. And utterly unwilling to do either.

Even if he wanted to sometimes.

Hours later, when the room had grown cold, after he had wandered through the darkest depths of his mind and come out on the other side, he had found himself in his car, driving aimlessly through the wet streets.

A few minutes later, he realized he wasn't just taking random turns, after all.

Lisbon's building was dark, quiet. Peaceful.

Not somewhere he should taint with his presence.

Regardless, he knocked anyway.

It took a few tries, but eventually he heard soft footfalls, and the deadbolt being turned.

She stood in front of him, hair a wild mess, clad in an oversized hockey jersey, staring. "Jane? Is everything alright?"

He blinked a few times, considering the question. "I don't think so," he eventually said.

Making an effort to wake up, she swung the door wide. "Get in here."

Obediently, he followed her to the couch. She flipped on a light, giving the living room a soft glow. Lisbon studied his face. "Who's a mess now?" she half whispered, eyes concerned.

He leaned heavily back into the cushions. "It's been a rough day," he admitted dryly. "The attic wasn't feeling particularly comfortable," he continued, by way of explanation.

There was compassion in her expression now, and it cut through the numbness enveloping him.

She stood, hunted around the room for a few seconds, before returning with a full-sized pillow and blanket. "You can stay here tonight," she said, and it was definitely an order. He had no intention of fighting, though.

Quietly, he gave in, kicking his shoes off as he swung his legs up. Lisbon made a point of making sure he was properly covered before going back upstairs.

He waited approximately fifteen minutes before following, blanket still draped around him.

Although he had never been in her room before, it was easy enough to find. Shrouded in darkness, he padded forward, crawling on the bed, on top of her covers, until his searching hands came into contact with her soft body.

To say that she was startled would be an understatement. But she didn't protest, just leaned back into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. His nose was practically touching the back of her neck.

Tentatively, one of her hands rested on top of his, and he laced their fingers together.

The rain continued to fall outside, but for the first time in recent memory, it wasn't a lonely sound.

It was...peaceful. He was safe in the arms of the woman who loved him, who would fight for him, who would die for him.

The emotion that these thoughts conjured led to the fourth time he gave into temptation.

Again, it wasn't something he intended, but it felt too _right_ to stop.

She arched under his roving hands, her own laced in his hair, dragging his lips back to hers repeatedly.

Later, he lay with his lips pressed against her slightly damp shoulder, still having failed to get properly under the blankets. It seemed vastly unimportant.

Her fingers trailed down his back, covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Tell me you're not going to pretend to forget this happened," she eventually whispered. He knew she was only half joking.

He propped himself up on one elbow and offered her a smile. "Not very likely," he said, "but just in case, maybe we should do it again."

Grinning herself now, she swatted at him lightly.

"I don't know how this is going to work," he began, more sober now, "but it will. We're going to make it work."

She touched his face, thumb skating over the lines made by years of sorrow and laughter, usually happening at the same time. "I know we will," she whispered.

"I wish I had more to offer you," he said helplessly.

Shrugging, she stretched upward for a soft kiss. "I don't want anything but you," she breathed against his lips. "Just you, and all of your baggage and strange habits and pain in the ass tendencies."

He laughed then. "You may come to regret that statement," he warned.

"I'll let you know when the time comes," she promised.

Dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, he rolled to his back, pulling her across his chest. Her arms went around his waist, and he relished the feeling of being wanted.

He had once told Lorelei that healing wasn't his strong point. He had a feeling that this, being curled up with Lisbon at night, the warmth of her kisses, would go a long way towards helping that process.

_Love you_, he almost whispered, but figured that perhaps it would be too much, too soon.

Instead, he closed his eyes and remembered to be grateful for this moment.

He knew all too well how quickly the world could change.

But here and now, in these quiet hours, life was perfect.


End file.
